Lucky No More - a Matt Houston Story
by boswifedeb
Summary: While Houston is still upset and pondering over the mysterious death of a young man, a body turns up at Santa Maria Race Park and the LAPD Chief asks for his help wrapping it up as soon as possible. **Immediately follows "Dead Ringer" **. Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

"**Lucky No More"**

****Immediately follows "Dead Ringer"**

**"Horse sense is the thing a horse has **

**which keeps it from betting on people."**

**- W C Fields**

**CHAPTER 1**

"Foley, what're ya doing? You know you're not supposed to be here." Security guard Lonnie Stark found one of Santa Maria Race Park's most loveable patrons sleeping off a drunk in one of the storage areas used for hay.

"Aw come on, Lonnie. I'm not hurting anything." The bleary-eyed gambler sat up and rubbed a hand over his unshaven face.

"I know you're not but if the wrong person sees you they're going to ban you." The sixty-ish guard looked at the man that was ten years his junior but looked at least seventy. "Tell you what: go sack out in the back of my truck. There's a topper on there. You know which one it is?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Lonnie. When my ship comes in I won't forget this."

Stark watched as the man shuffled outside before he turned and walked in the opposite direction to finish his rounds. Mumbling to himself he shook his head. "Waiting for his ship to come in…unh."

A few hours later, Colin Foley awoke in the back of the truck wondering for a moment where he was before remembering Stark's offer. Pulling a pint bottle out of his ever-present trench coat he raised the whiskey in a toast. "To Lonnie Stark – and Lady Luck." He took a swig of the fiery drink and after a moment of nausea, the whiskey began giving him a warm glow and he smiled as he exited the truck. Stretching and yawning, he took a deep breath, then coughed as he exhaled. Fumbling in the pockets of his coat he found a half-crumpled pack of cigarettes and pulled the last one out. He wadded up the pack and tossed it aside as he pulled out his lighter. He lit the cigarette and the four leaf clover on the lighter reflected the sun's rays. Closing the lighter he looked at it as memories of his past flashed through his mind. "Good days behind, better days ahead." That had become his favorite phrase over the past ten years or so. He turned and walked toward the track, slipping in over the fence running behind the barns housing the million dollar horses that fueled his dreams these days. Taking a shortcut through one of the structures, Colin heard a voice that he wasn't expecting and didn't want to hear. Looking around for a hiding place, he dove behind some bales of hay that were stacked in an empty stall.

"…And I told you to lay off for a while." The voice of one of the tracks stewards, Martin Sherwood, drew nearer to the hiding Foley.

"It's just this race today. I've got an investor breathing down my neck. If Palisades Pride wins today I'm in the clear." Foley now recognized the other participant in the conversation: Sal Beardsly. Beardsly owned several horses at the track but had been having a bad year. He had been forced to accept a couple of investors in his venture, both of whom were not pleased with the lack of wins of late.

"It's gonna cost you ten grand."

"What?! Last time it was seventy five hundred. What are you trying to pull here?"

Foley involuntarily jumped as Sherwood pushed Beardsly against a post right in front of his hiding place and held him there with a hand around his throat.

"What am I trying to pull?" The steward spoke through his teeth. "I can either pull the wool over someone's eyes or pull every one of your horses from the schedule. Which would you prefer?"

"Okay, okay…" Beardsly straightened his collar. "I'll have it for you in an hour…but you'll make sure, right?"

"I'll do it. Now get the hell away from me." Sherwood turned right out of the barn as Beardsly turned left.

When he was sure the coast was clear, Colin came out of hiding and pulled out his wallet; there was $500 in it. Putting the money away he smiled. "That ship is gonna dock in three hours." He turned and exited the barn and went to watch the workouts taking place on the track.

Ten minutes before post time Foley stepped up to the window. "Five hundred on Palisades Pride to win."

The clerk looked up and laughed. "Funny, Foley. I needed a good laugh. Move along." His expression changed when the track bum pulled out his wallet and put the cash down on the counter. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah." Colin pushed the money across and waited as the cashier first counted the money and then handed the ticket over.

"Good luck."

"Thanks." He put the ticket into his wallet and joined the rest of the crowd waiting for the race.

Five minutes after the horses had run, a smiling Colin Foley stepped up to the same window. "Congratulations, man. That was one heck of a win." The cashier shook his head as he handed the man his winnings. "How did you know?"

"I just keep my ear to the ground." Foley closed his wallet and drifted off through the crowd.

**ONE WEEK LATER…**

"Houston Investigations." Chris Chase answered the phone in the penthouse offices.

"Hi, Chris, it's Lee Jennings. Is Houston around there?"

"He sure is. Hang on a minute." The secretary put the detective on hold and walked to the doorway of CJ's office. "Lee Jennings is…oh!" She stopped in her tracks. There on the loveseat was her boss, Matt Houston, pinned underneath his wife. The two were heavily involved in a kiss when the secretary spoke and it was then that a blushing CJ left the loveseat and Matt sat up with a big smile on his face. Looking at his secretary he shrugged. "It IS a love seat." He stood and picked up the phone on his wife's desk. "Hey, Lee. What's going on?" He looked over at CJ, giving her the lopsided grin that she loved as Chris retreated to her own desk.

"I just got a call at Santa Maria. Seems some of the landscaping crew came across a body. Then I got a call from the chief. He wants you to come check it. Said he wanted it wrapped up ASAP."

"Uh huh. Where's the body exactly? That's a pretty big place."

"Meet me at Gate 7."

"See ya in a bit." He hung up the phone, leaning across the desk to capture CJ's lips in another kiss. "Going to Santa Maria to check out a body." Leaning closer he whispered in her ear. "And I plan on checking out a much livelier one tonight."

"Be careful."

"Yes, dear." He winked at her. "Love you, Babe."

"Love you, Cowboy." She watched as he headed toward the elevator, whistling one of his favorite songs.

Out at the track, Lee was parked just inside of Gate 7 and was leaning on the trunk of his car when Matt pulled up. Climbing up in the cab he motioned to the west. "Follow this on around to the north side of the track."

"Alright." Matt went on around, pausing as a line of horses left the stables and headed to the track. "I see the discovery of a body hasn't interfered with the schedule."

"Apparently not."

The PI continued on his way and a few minutes later he pulled up behind the patrol cars and parked. Two security vehicles from the track were present along with three LAPD patrol cars as the two detectives got out. An ME's assistant pulled up behind the truck, then a van from the Coroner's Office, and an SUV from the Crime Lab. Cheryl Crawford and Bob Wisnewski emerged and greetings were exchanged.

Matt pulled his notebook out as well as his pen and watched as Cheryl set up the 3-D scanner and proceeded to place the markers for the machine. After the scan was completed Bob moved in and took some shots with the camera.

"So who found him?" Matt looked over at the groundskeepers.

"That would be me." A guy in his early twenties raised his hand.

"What happened?"

"The boss said to rework the flowerbeds at Gates 7 and 8 today, so Julio and I came over to get a load." He indicated the compost pile where the body was lying. "I was running the Bob Cat and had already gotten a few buckets full when I noticed the smell." The man was looking slightly green. "Then I looked up and saw…that." He shook his head and gave a shudder.

"Where does the compost come from?" Lee watched as the ME's assistant attempted to roll the body over – which turned out badly. A collective groan went up from the group as the upper part of the body separated from the lower body and the liquefied interior popped like a water balloon, gushing onto the compost below. Three of the four members of the grounds crew turned and threw up – the fourth passed out.

Matt pulled a roll of mints out of his pocket and offered the rest to the members of the crew when they were once again standing upright. Julio, who had passed out, came to a few seconds later and was helped to his feet by the other three. "How about I talk to these guys?"

"Go for it." Jennings turned back to watch the ME.

Turning back to his truck, the PI waved the workers over to the back. "Drop the tailgate and have a seat, fellas." He opened the back passenger side door and opened up a cooler. "Y'all want a Fizzy Pop?" All four men nodded and Matt removed the drinks, handing them over and cracking open a sports drink for himself. Leaning against the hood of the SUV parked behind him, the PI looked at the four. "Got any idea who that might be?" All four shook their heads. "Have you seen anybody out of the ordinary hanging around?" Again the answer was negative. No one spoke for a minute. "Det. Jennings was asking about the compost."

"It's made here." Julio spoke up.

"From where the stalls are mucked out?"

"Yes sir."

"Who's in charge of it?"

"Our boss – Kenny Burgess."

"I'm kinda surprised he isn't out here. Got any idea where he is right now?"

"His wife is having surgery today at UCLA." The man who had found the body spoke up.

"And I didn't get your name."

"Cody Rolf."

Matt wrote down the men's information and gave each one of his cards, instructing them to call if they thought of anything else. "Hang tight for a minute." After speaking to Lee he told the guys they could go and went back up to join the others. "Got anything?"

Lee shook his head. "They found a wad of cash but no wallet and no ID."

"So it wasn't a robbery." Matt grimaced as the ME's assistant and the two men from the coroner's office carefully maneuvered what was left of the corpse into a body bag which was then placed inside another to prevent leakage. The ME's assistant stood and watched as they carried the remains to the van. All of the bystanders held their breath as the gurney rolled past.

The ME's assistant went to the back of his vehicle and removed the gloves and mask he had been wearing. Matt and Lee went to speak to him. "Doc? Don't believe we've met before – Lee Jennings."

"Raoul Jimenez." The two shook and Matt held out his hand and started to introduce himself but the doctor surprised him. "Mattlock Houston – you're a private investigator and consultant to the LAPD. You've also helped out the Harris County Sheriff's Department and Houston PD." He gave the shocked PI a smile. "My older brother Mike told me all about you."

"Small world, huh?" He shook the man's hand. "How's he doing?"

"Fine." The two saw the question on Lee's face and laughed before Houston explained that he had met Mike a couple of months earlier while helping out on a case in Texas.

"What do you think about our guy here?"

"I think that it's the biggest mess I've ever dealt with." Jimenez shook his head. "It's going to take a very careful and thorough exam to get cause of death on this one. I can't tell you squat yet."

"So no idea how long he might have been there?" Lee watched as the van containing the body pulled away and two others pulled in. "Damn."

"Nope." Jimenez closed up the SUV. "Call me later." He was already backing out as reporter Tamara Placer emerged from the news van in the lead.

As she straightened her blouse, the reporter made a beeline for Matt and Lee. "Mr. Houston? Det. Jennings?" She called after the two as the PI and the cop almost ran to get on the other side of the crime scene tape.

"Ya know it's bad that I would rather deal with the smell of decomp than talk to her." The PI and the cop exchanged a look.

"You're not alone. That woman can twist anything that's said so bad it's unreal." Lee looked down and studied the compost heap.

Squatting down, Matt looked at the area where the body had been. "We've got the tracks from the Bob Cat, but nothing else. And we don't have any idea how long he was here." Standing up once again, he popped his back causing the cop to cringe. He looked over to see the sound guy for Tamara Placer holding a huge microphone over the tape marking the perimeter as he and the reporter shared a set of headphones trying to make out what the two detectives were saying. Matt winked at Lee. "Guess we'll have to put out an APB on Bigfoot." The cops within earshot cracked up as did the two crime scene techs. Lowering his voice he spoke again. "Wanna go talk to security and see if their cameras picked up anything?" Lee nodded and the pair started for the truck.

"Detective, what can you tell us?" Placer was all over the pair as they made their way to the truck. The reporter from Channel 9 was now joining in the questions but his voice was drowned out by the blonde. As Matt closed the door of the truck and started the engine she was still yelling out questions. The PI shook his head as he turned the truck around and went toward the track offices located on the main concourse. He spoke with a security guard and was directed into a private parking area. Much to his relief, the reporters were not allowed to enter the area.

The two detectives were met inside by Darin Heard, head of track security and were led into the control room containing several banks of monitors. "How long do you keep your surveillance videos?  
Lee watched as practically every aspect of the track flashed on the screens.

"Two weeks unless there is a request to keep an eye on something specific."

"Are there any cameras that pick up on the composting area?" Matt looked at Heard.

The security chief shook his head no. "Most of the cameras are focused on four things: the cashier windows, the count room, the stable areas, and the areas where our guests are located."

"Give us everything you have." Lee and Matt both looked disgusted.

"Mr. Heard, do you know of any disagreements that have occurred lately?" Houston went back to watching the monitors.

"There are always disagreements just like anywhere else that people, money, and alcohol mix."

"Any that stand out?"

"No."

"What about your employees: is everyone accounted for?"

"Yes sir."

When they received the security video the two left. "What do you think? Split it up?" Lee looked over at Matt.

"I guess so. Damn."

Lee followed Matt's gaze to his parked police vehicle. "Hell." The cop sighed. "I'm beginning to understand why the lieutenant has ulcers."

The PI stopped the truck next to Lee's car and the cop handed him part of the footage. "Good luck out there." He laughed as the cop snarled at him before exiting the truck. Matt hit the button to lock the doors as Tamara Placer attempted to open the door that Lee had just closed. "Close call." He dropped the truck into gear and looked at his watch, deciding to head home and go through the security footage in the den, not noticing the glare that the reporter was giving him as he drove away.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Catherine Rose Houston let out a squeal of delight when she saw her dad's truck coming up the driveway. "Look who's home a little early for a change." Nanny Sheila Wentworth handed the baby over to Matt who in exchange handed her the surveillance videos.

"Yep, but I brought some work home with me." He accepted a slobbery kiss from the seven month old.

"Cricket." Catey looked at her dad expectantly.

"Okay, we'll go see Cricket. Do you mind putting those in the house for me?"

"Not a bit." She took the videos and watched as he put the baby up on his shoulders and headed down to the barn.

Later that evening after Catey had enjoyed her bath, Matt was giving her the last bottle of the day and began watching the videos. The discs he had covered the grandstands, the area down by the track, as well as the gift shop and restaurants. Not feeling very hopeful, he started going through them.

"Hon, maybe Catey shouldn't be seeing this."

"I really don't think we're going to see a murder on here, Babe; look at how many people are around."

Sheila put down the book she had been reading. "What are we looking for?" Matt chuckled before explaining the case so far. "Oh my…" The nurse-turned-nanny shuddered. "I've seen my share of bad things working as a nurse but nothing like that."

"I'm just looking for anything that seems unusual. A fight, somebody following someone else…"

"So something hinky. I got you." The two PI's exchanged a look and a smile as Sheila leaned forward and scrutinized the footage. They were on the last disc when the nanny spoke up again. "Now _that_ seems kind of odd."

Matt rewound the footage from the high-dollar restaurant that was the track's crown jewel. It showed an unshaven, rough-looking man in a trench coat dining at the five star eatery. "Yeah it is." Matt wrote down the time stamped on the video before restarting the footage. When the man finished his meal, he tossed some bills down on the table and left. They finished up the rest of the disc without any other unusual events.

"So do you think that guy is the perp?" Sheila looked over at Matt who snickered.

"Perp, huh? You've been watching too much TV. I don't know if he is or not. We'll have to see what else is on the rest of the footage." He stood up, stretching and yawning, as he removed the disc from the player and put it with the others that they had viewed. "And I won't know about that until tomorrow. Right now I'm going to bed."

Matt found himself sliding on a pair of jeans and going out on the patio at 3:00AM. He had woken up an hour before but kept thinking about the case from a few days earlier when four bodies had been stolen from the morgue. Along with Lee and Carl, Matt had figured out who had stolen the bodies and why. All four were recovered, but he hadn't heard about the results of the autopsies on the two youngest victims, Mario Santiago and Monica Carter. No one seemed to care what had happened to Carter and Matt suspected that had been the case her whole life. Her sister wasn't upset over her death in the least and wasn't planning on claiming the body for burial. Mario Santiago was another matter. His grandmother had been hit hard by the news. The two had been struggling financially and Matt wondered what would happen to the lady. It was then that he decided to talk to Mrs. Santiago again and pay for the funeral of her grandson. After forty five minutes of pondering on the situation, Matt yawned and decided to head back inside and go back to bed.

The next morning the PI skipped going to the office and went straight to the police station instead. He refilled his travel mug from the coffee pot behind Luis Sanchez's desk before drifting into the squad room where he snagged an empty chair and propped his feet on the corner of Lee Jennings desk. "So how was your date with Bridgette last night?"

The cop looked up in surprise. "How did you know?"

He gestured with the coffee cup. "You've got that goofy grin on your face again." He smirked as he took another sip.

"Do not – and it was fine…actually better than fine. She's a great cook."

"Uh huh." Matt's smile got bigger. "So I don't suppose she helped you look through the video from the track."

"No, I did that before I went to her place and Carl watched the other part. I didn't see anything that raised any red flags. How about you?" The PI related what they had seen the night before. "Maybe the guy hit it lucky and treated himself."

"Could be. When is the ME due to post the guy?"

"In about…" Lee consulted his watch. "…thirty minutes. Man, that was a mess." Just then a couple of folders came flying onto Jennings' desk and the two looked up to see the source. Det. John Oxford was giving the pair a scowl. "Thanks for the airmail, John." Lee looked at Matt and rolled his eyes as the other detective dropped heavily into his desk chair, mumbling something under his breath about being treated like a delivery boy. "We got the results back on Carter and Santiago." He handed one of the folders to Matt and both men began reading. A minute later Lee spoke again. "She OD'd. No big surprise there. Another life down the tubes because of stupidity."

Matt didn't reply. Still reading about Mario Santiago, he shook his head. Other than some blunt force trauma to his head, there hadn't been a scratch on the young man. His toxicology screen came back clear and the death was ruled as being as a result of the head wound. He looked at the signature at the bottom of the page: Raoul Jimenez. Not having actually seen the body, Matt wondered what the wound looked like.

"I think I'm going down to talk to Jimenez." He stood and put the chair back where it had come from. "Thanks, John." The only reply from the grumpy cop was a glare and a few muttered words as Matt headed for the elevator.

Matt pulled into the parking lot of the Coroner's Office on North Mission Road and snagged a good parking place. As he went through the front doors he saw Lee Jennings' new girlfriend, Bridgette. She looked up and gave him a big smile. "Good morning, Mr. Houston."

"Good morning…and drop the mister part. Most folks just call me Houston."

"Okay. What can we do for you this morning?"

"I would like to talk to Raoul Jimenez if he's where I can."

"Let me call up and see." She picked up the phone, dialed the extension, and after a few seconds of conversation hung up. "He says you can come up but you better be ready to change clothes."

"Don't know if I like the sound of that or not." Matt gave a grimace and went to the elevator. Stepping off on the second floor he was met by Jimenez.

"Hope you've got a strong stomach." He held out what looked like a hazmat suit to the PI. "Suit up."

"Yee haw." After changing into the suit and donning a pair of gloves as well as a face mask, the PI was escorted into the room where the autopsy on the John Doe from the race track was about to begin. Matt wasn't the only visitor. A class of LAPD cadets was there to observe as well. _These kids got sent here on the wrong day_, he thought to himself. Matt shook his head and noticed that four EMT's were standing by for the inevitable fainters. He watched as the ME's assistant started in on his speech informing the cadets of how an autopsy was normally conducted.

"Our John Doe here is going to be a little different." He pulled the sheet off of the body, revealing the fact that the man was split in two. Almost all of the cadets looked shocked. "Now we examined this fella at the crime scene yesterday…a little bit." He explained when, where, and how the cadaver had been found. "We need to try to answer some basic questions about this man. First – who was he? Second – how did he die? And thirdly when did he die?" As he spoke Jimenez began cutting off the clothes of the victim which were put into evidence bags and labeled. As he tried to remove the victim's left shoe, his whole foot came with it. Two cadets threw up into the bags they had been given for that purpose and a third passed out. The EMT's moved in and took charge of the young man.

"We can see a little more of the skin's surface. As you can see, the skin looks more like leather on the parts where it is still intact." Jimenez went on to explain that they were looking for bruising or other signs of injury. As he moved through the exam he looked at the man's head. "And here we have a wound to the occipital bone of the skull. Houston – wanna get a closer look?"

Matt nodded and stepped over to the table as Jimenez showed him the wound as another assistant photographed the injury. "I think I might know what that is. I'd rather not say at the moment, though." The PI stepped back to the spot he had been occupying and the doctor went on with the autopsy as normally as possible considering that part of the internal organs had liquefied.

With the help of two assistants, Raoul gently rolled the upper part of the body, exposing the back. "Get shots of that. Houston…" He flagged the PI over again. There on the man's left shoulder blade was a four leaf clover tattoo and the word _"Lucky"_.

"That might help." Matt went back to his spot.

When he had reached the end of the autopsy, Jimenez asked if anyone had questions. A young female cadet raised her hand.

"Doctor, what caused the corpse to be so deteriorated?"

"Remember – it was in a compost pile. That pile contained material that had been removed from the horse stalls as well as grass clippings and other items. That's a lot of bacteria in a relatively small and contained space."

"Not to mention the fact that the horse patties caused an increased temperature." Matt spoke up.

"And that in turn helped encourage the further growth of bacteria." Jimenez nodded at Matt.

"The manure also attracted more flies, which meant more maggots, which…" Matt stopped as two more cadets threw up and another fainted.

"Would you please finish that line of reasoning, Houston?"

"The maggots might be able to help us determine when the victim died."

"Exactly." Jimenez held up a maggot with a pair of forceps. "These little guys may seem gross as hell right now, but they're actually quite useful. Any other questions?" No one raised their hand. "Then thanks for coming today – and good luck." The cadets filed out and Jimenez and Houston went to the locker room to ditch the suits.

"You did good in there, PI – didn't puke or pass out." The doctor smiled at the man.

"That wasn't my first autopsy. Definitely the messiest though."

"So tell me what you think the wound was caused by."

"Well…" Matt followed the doc into the small break room. He picked up a napkin and pulled a pen out of his pocket and drew what he had seen. "It looks like it could be from a pair of tongs."

"That makes sense." The doctor poured both of them a cup of coffee and they sat down at the table. "So now you've got a likely cause of death."

"Yeah, but I also wanted to talk to you about Mario Santiago, too, if you can spare a minute."

"Sure. What's up?"

"I saw your report on his head wound. Do you have any idea what caused it?"

Raoul shook his head. "Nope. I'm hoping that the folks at the crime lab can figure it out."

"Has the body been claimed by his grandmother yet?"

"No…" He took a sip. "And I'm not sure it will be."

"Lee Jennings and I made the notification. They were having a hard time." Both men fell silent. "I'm going to go back and talk to Mrs. Santiago."

"What good will that do?" The doctor watched as Matt downed the rest of the coffee and tossed his cup into the garbage.

"I'm going to tell her I'll take care of the funeral. It won't answer who killed him but it might make her feel a little better." He held out his hand. "Thanks for the help, Doc."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Matt pulled in front of the Santiago home and saw the curtains on the front window moving. When he reached the top step, the front door was opened by Evita Santiago. "Did you find out what happened to my Mario?"

"No ma'am – not yet. But I'm still working on it." Matt looked around and then motioned to the swing. "Could we sit and talk for a minute?"

"Of course." Mrs. Santiago stepped out onto the porch and the two sat down.

Looking up where the chains connected into the hooks on the ceiling he smiled. "I have a house down in Texas. Got a couple of swings on the back porch that I built when my wife was expecting our daughter. Every house should have a swing." He looked back over at her.

"My husband, God rest him, built this over fifty years ago. Many a child has been rocked to sleep in it…" Tears welled up in her eyes.

Matt reached for her hand. "I'm sorry about Mario, Mrs. Santiago. I wanted to ask you if it would be okay if I helped you with his funeral." He looked at her face and saw the shocked expression.

"I…" She shook her head. "It isn't your problem."

"I'm making it my problem." She started shaking her head again. "Please…I'd like to take care of it for you."

"It is much too expensive." Mrs. Santiago started crying again.

"No ma'am, I can do it. Please?"

Evita looked at him. "Why? You didn't even know my grandson."

"Let's just say that I try to be one of the good guys and help people out." He waited and finally she nodded, tears flowing down her face. "Okay, let's go get things taken care of."

The two headed to a local funeral parlor where Matt helped her make the arrangements and then returned her home. "You call me if you need anything, alright?"

She reached up and gave him a hug. "Thank you so much, Mr. Houston."

"You're more than welcome…and just call me Houston, please ma'am."

Matt left and was driving around thinking, headed nowhere in particular and ended up on the Long Beach Freeway. He found the spot where Mario Santiago had been found. After pulling over onto the shoulder and hitting the flashers, he exited the truck and looked at what little of a scene there was. The outline of the body was still visible and he took a couple of pictures of it and the surrounding area but found nothing.

Climbing back into the truck, he started the engine and pulled back into the flow of traffic. He called the morgue and Bridgette answered. "Hi, Miss Bridgette. It's Houston." He asked to have a copy of the tattoo photograph sent to his email. Next he called Lee and told him about the results of the autopsy. "I'm going to hit the track and show a picture of the tat; maybe somebody will recognize it."

"Sounds like a good idea. Hang on a sec." After a minute the cop came back on the line. "Got another DB and of course Oxford's no-good ass can't be found. Gotta go."

"Alright. Talk to you later." He hung up and pondered what little they had so far. The guy in the restaurant that Sheila had spotted now came back into Matt's mind. He appeared to be about the right height and weight as the badly decomposed corpse. The hair color was the same. What had Lee said that morning? _"Maybe he hit it lucky…"_

Punching the number for the office, he asked for CJ. "Babe, would you email the picture of Sheila's perp to me?"

"Okay. How's it going?" As she took care of his request she listened to his account of that morning. "So maybe Sheila's perp isn't a perp; maybe he's the victim. Watch yourself out there, Cowboy."

"Yes ma'am. Love you. 'Bye."

"Love you, too."

Checking his mail when he pulled up to the track, Matt went first to the security office and spoke with Darin Heard, showing him the pictures. "That kind of looks like…what is the guy's name?" He turned to one of the guards. "Is Stark working today?"

"Yes sir. He's stationed at Stable Four."

"I'll go talk to him. Thanks." Houston left the office and drove over to the stables where he parked at the end of number four. A guard of about sixty approached him.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you can't park there. Authorized vehicles only."

Flashing his LAPD ID, Matt looked at the guard's name tag. "Chief Heard said I would find you here. Could you tell me if you've ever seen this tat before?" He held out his phone and Stark looked at it.

"Yeah. That's just like the one that Colin Foley…oh, my Lord…" He looked up at Matt.

"I realize that it's a bad picture but does this look like Foley?" He switched to another picture.

"Oh, Jesus…" Stark leaned against the barn for support. He nodded. "That's him."

Matt dropped the tailgate on the truck and offered the stunned guard a seat before calling the security office and asking Heard to send a replacement for Stark. He informed the man of what he had learned. A few minutes later another guard showed up and Matt took Stark to the station.

After settling him in to Hoyt's office with a cup of coffee, Matt sat down behind the desk and began asking the shaken guard what he knew about Colin Foley.

"Not much, really. He's been hanging around the track for about ten years now. Every once in a while he wins on a race. Guess it's just enough to keep him in whiskey and cigarettes. The guy stays buzzed all the time." Lonnie shook his head. "He would sleep in the stables most of the time. I don't know if he even had a home." Taking a sip of coffee with a shaking hand, the guard continued. "The last time I saw him he had just hit it big – about nine grand. The night before that I let him crash in the back of my truck. Chief Heard had threatened to ban him if he got caught on the property again after hours. He told me that he wouldn't forget it and that when his ship came in he would remember me. The very next day he won and that afternoon when I got in the truck to go home there was an envelope with $1,000 in it sitting on the seat and a note saying thanks."

"And that night was the last time you saw him?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember when that was?"

"I sure do. It was exactly fifteen days ago. My vacation started three days after he left the envelope. Finally got to take my wife on a real trip because of Foley."

"So you got back when?"

"Monday was my first day back at work."

"Did you wonder why he wasn't around?" Matt reached over and pulled the keyboard in front of him.

"Yeah, but I was hoping he took his winnings and was trying to clean himself up. Foley was a nice guy."

"Did he have any trouble with anyone at the track? Maybe he owed someone money?"

"Not really. I mean, Chief Heard threatened to ban him but that was only because of Sherwood being a jerk."

"Who's Sherwood?" Matt listened closely. "Anyone else?"

"No. Foley was…he was part of the track. Kind of like a character from and old Bogey movie or something – always wore a trench coat."

"Could you describe it?" Matt took it down.

After typing up the statement and getting Stark to sign it he took the man back to the track. "I may be about to lose my job. We're not supposed to accept gifts like that." The man shrugged his shoulders. "It's worth it, though – if it will help you find out what happened to him."

Reaching up to the visor, Houston removed one of his business cards and handed it to the man. "If you think of anything else call me. And if they fire you, let me know: I can help you out." The two shook hands and Matt watched as Stark went to the security office before turning the truck around and punching Lee's number.

"Hey, Houston." The young cop sounded tired and disgusted.

"Bad time for a phone call?"

"No – just a bad time period. People are so damn stupid." The detective leaned against the car as he watched the Coroner's assistants load up two bodies. "Did something pop?"

"Yep – our John Doe is Colin Foley."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Matt met CJ and Lee at Ricardo's at 12:30. After ordering, the PI filled them in on what he had learned. "You boys have come a long way in twenty four hours." CJ looked between the two.

As he took a sip of iced tea the cop shook his head. "He's the reason."

"No, I took what Jimenez was able to find and got lucky finding the right person to ask."

"Speaking of which – guess who resigned?" CJ thanked the waiter as he put a sizzling order of chicken fajitas in front of her.

"Who?" Matt asked as he took a large bite of chimichangas.

"The ME." She saw the surprised look on both of their faces.

"About damn time." Matt took a sip of tea.

"I heard that the DA's office was opening an investigation." Lee shook his head.

"Which leads me to a phone call I received earlier. A friend at the DA's office wanted me to tell you that you're probably going to be subpoenaed." She looked at her husband and then added, "…and Michael, too."

"Does he know yet?" The PI took another bite.

She nodded, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "I called and gave him a heads up. He sounded like he was ready to celebrate."

The three continued discussing the matter over lunch. Afterward, Matt wrapped an arm around CJ as they walked out the door. "I'm going to go see what BABY can give me on this Martin Sherwood guy and Colin Foley."

"Okay. I've got paperwork to do on the call I just went on. I'll talk to you later."

As they exited the elevator in the office lobby the pair ran into Murray Chase. "How's it going, bud?" Matt shook hands with his friend.

"Good. I just came to say goodbye to Chris. I've got to go to New York for a couple of days."

"Have fun."

"Not without my Pumpkin." He blew a kiss at Chris and then hit the elevator.

Matt and CJ sat down on the couch and pulled up BABY, looking for information on Martin Sherwood. "Here we go: Martin Van Buren Sherwood, age 47, twice divorced. He's one of the stewards at the track and has been there for almost twenty years working various jobs and was appointed steward six years ago. That seems to be all there is on him." CJ punched a few more keys. "Colin Seamus Foley, age 51, he was married to Constance Archer for almost twenty years. She and their two teenaged kids, a son and daughter, were killed in a car accident in 2001." She scrolled down a little further. "They were killed by a hit and run driver. Colin was badly injured and was in a coma for over a month. The driver was never found and Foley lost everything…his home, job – everything."

"So that's why he stayed at the track." Matt sat back and thought for a minute. "When they found him he had a wad of cash on him but no ID or wallet. Kinda rules out robbery." They fell silent. "Lonnie Stark said that Foley had picked a winning horse and won about $9,000. He gave $1,000 to Stark."

"And had a nice dinner at the track." CJ rested her head on his shoulder.

"If robbery wasn't the motive for killing him – what was?" He took her hand and held it. "You know Stark said he would win a little bit here and there, enough to keep him in cigarettes and whiskey. Then all the sudden he hits it big."

"And he's suddenly dead." CJ looked at him.

"You know, a lot of things go on at tracks and not all of them are good…or legal."

"So was Foley's bet on that horse good luck or some information that he gained by hanging around so much?"

Matt pulled out his phone and called Lonnie Stark. "Are you where you can talk?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm at home. The chief gave me the boot."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you want to stay in the security business?"

"It's about all I know."

"Okay, I think I can get you set up. Can you hang on a second?"

"Sure."

"Babe, can you call security and see if they've still got an opening?"

"Sure can." She reached across him for the phone.

"Okay, my wife is checking on it. Listen, do you remember the name of the horse that Foley bet on?"

"Palisades Pride. The odds were 20-1."

"Okay. Hang on." He looked over at CJ.

"Walter said to tell him to come by tomorrow at 7:00AM. Is he firearm licensed?"

"Hey Lonnie, you're firearm licensed aren't you?"

"Sure am."

Matt nodded at CJ. "Okay, come to the Houston Industries Building at 7:00AM tomorrow."

"You're kidding."

"Nope, dead serious. Told you I could help you out."

"I sure appreciate it."

After disconnecting the call, Matt leaned forward and entered the name of the horse into the computer and the two began reading. "Lonnie said the odds were 20-1." He read through the horse's race history. "No wonder. He hasn't done very well in the past year. Who is the owner?" They both went through the information. "Sal Beardsly." He punched in the name. "Salvador Beardsly, age 45. Race horses are a family business. His father and uncle were trainers. Sal got his start as an owner after placing several bets on horses and coming up a winner. He was doing good up until about a year ago. Two of his horses were injured on the track and had to be put down…then another was killed in a transport accident. There are four horses currently under his banner at the track: Palisades Pride, Catch Me if You Can, Wind Song, and Zalma Flash. Out of those four only Palisades Pride and Zalma Flash have won or placed in the last eight months."

He leaned back and rubbed his eyes. "Okay, so say Foley finds out a tidbit that points him in the direction of Palisades Pride. He won nine grand…" Pulling up the calculator on his phone, he did some quick math. "With the thirteen percent that the state gets out of the winnings, that means he bet $500 on that race." Both fell silent again. "Five hundred bucks is a lot of money to someone who sleeps in the hay." He dialed Luis Sanchez. "Hey, Luis – Houston. Can you see if you have any records for a couple of folks? Okay the first one: Martin Van Buren Sherwood…Uh huh. Second is Salvador Beardsly…If you don't mind. Thanks." He hung up and pulled up his email. "Not yet…but in the meantime…" Matt put an arm around CJ and kissed her.

"What brought that on? Not that I'm complaining."

"Just 'cause." He turned back to the computer. "Darn – it's here." Both cracked up. "Sherwood had an assault charge when he was 22. And Beardsly…had a DUI eight years ago, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, and a domestic assault but the charges were dropped."

"So both have been somewhat violent in the past." CJ thought. "Money can be a big motivator. I'll run a check on their financials." She stepped over the back of the couch and went to her office. Matt went behind the bar for a cup of coffee and then out on the patio. He sat down in one of the chairs and propped his feet up on the wall, thinking over the Foley case and Mario Santiago.

CJ came out an hour later to find him lost in thought. She came up behind him and began rubbing his shoulders. Tilting his head back he looked up at her. "Want to hear what I found out about Sherwood and Beardsly?"

"Sure." He took her by the hand and walked her around to the front of the chair, pulling her onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"You know that Beardsly's stable hasn't been doing too well in the last year. Evidently it was starting to pinch him; he had to take on a couple of partners to make ends meet. He chose some interesting investors."

"Do tell?"

"Uh huh. Luciano Aratoli and Keshawn Robertson."

"No he didn't. Damn…he must have been desperate." Matt shook his head. "Neither one of those fellas is going to wait too long to see a profit. And how in the hell did he get that pair together? Aratoli is so wild and disorganized it's a wonder he's accomplished what he has. Robertson though…well, actually I can see him going for it. He started out in the projects and now supplies most of the users in Hollywood – silk suits and all."

"I wonder if Robertson and Aratoli are partners together in any other ventures?" She started playing with the curls at the base of his neck.

"I don't know – but if you keep on with what you're doing I'll never find out." He pulled her down for a kiss. "Let's go home. I'll think about it tonight."

Later that evening, after taking Catey for a ride on Cricket and grilling some steaks, Matt left the others sitting around the table on the patio and went back down to the barn to groom Cricket. Roy watched as his nephew brought the Red Sorrel out of the pasture and began hosing her down. "She sure does like the attention." He chuckled as Cricket waited for Matt to lay the hose down and then took the opportunity to pick it up, turning to hit her owner with the water. All three adults at the table laughed.

"That's a game they play." CJ watched the pair. Matt took the hose away from her and rubbed her jaw as he rested his forehead on hers. "You know, another woman who didn't know any better might be jealous of those two."

After drying Cricket off, the cowboy began cleaning her feet. The horse stood patiently as he picked the dirt from her hooves and inspected them. She watched as he finished on her left side and started around in front of her going to the right side, once again nuzzling him. He stopped and rubbed her jaw, talking quietly to her before moving on around to finish her feet. As he moved on through the grooming, Sheila noticed that the horse would nuzzle him at every opportunity. "She is absolutely crazy about him, isn't she?"

"It's mutual. Matt owned her mom and dad and both of them were really good horses. Mr. Billy was struck by lightning about a week before Matt moved to California. Her mother Rachel was about three months from foaling and he brought her here. She went into foal when Matt was at work and he flew here in the helicopter. Bo and Lamar were moving her to the barn but she slipped on the creek bank and broke a leg. Matt had to put her down and did a C-section to deliver Cricket."

"That had to be rough." Sheila watched as he continued to work on the horse.

"He was torn up. That's part of the reason he was so reluctant to let Cricket and Jasper get together." CJ looked over to where Cricket's mate Jasper was standing on the other side of the fence, watching the mare and Matt closely. When the cowboy had finished, he went into the barn followed by Cricket, emerging a minute later with a new halter in his hands. "This may get interesting."

The group watched as Matt casually walked over to the pasture fence and climbed up to sit on the top rail, not paying any attention at all to the Buckskin stallion. Cricket walked up next to him and began nuzzling him again and nickering at Jasper. After watching the two for a minute, the stallion cautiously approached. Matt began rubbing Cricket's jaw as Jasper nuzzled her. The cowboy eased his hand downward where he would contact the stallion.

"How did he end up with Jasper?" Roy looked at his niece.

"He was out helping the ATF with a weapons dealer not too far from Fresno. Jasper was on the property and belonged to the guy in charge. He decided to go out in a blaze of glory." She rolled her eyes. "Jasper there was about half-starved, had been abused, and apparently never been trained at all. Matt convinced the Animal Control officer to let him take the horse."

They all watched as Matt began rubbing the stallion's jaw – something that he hadn't allowed anyone else to do up to that point. Matt let the horse inspect the new halter. After gently rubbing over the areas where it would go, he slowly eased it onto the horse. Although he looked frightened, the stallion allowed his new owner to adjust the halter and fasten it, after which he went back to petting the two horses. In a few minutes he climbed down and opened the gate for Cricket who joined her mate in the pasture. Matt gathered up the equipment he had been using on the mare and returned it to the barn before coming back outside. Reaching into his shirt pocket, the cowboy extracted a cigar and proceeded to light it before leaning on the pasture fence. CJ's horse Lucy came over for some attention from him. After the horse rejoined her companions, Matt continued to lean on the fence, puffing on the cigar.

"Looks like a man deep in thought." Roy watched his nephew.

"He's got a case that's bothering him." CJ told them about Mario Santiago and how Matt was taking care of the funeral expenses for the young man's grandmother.

"So absolutely no leads on it?" Roy was intrigued.

"Not a one. That's why it's driving him crazy."

As the sun began to set, Matt put out the cigar, turning and walking back up to the house. He and CJ put Catey down for the night and were snuggled up in the recliner watching a movie. When it went off Roy yawned and stretched. "Believe I'm going to hit the sack."

Yawning, Sheila nodded. "Me, too."

Roy chuckled as he looked in the direction of the couple. "Looks like they already have." He covered them up as Sheila turned off the TV and the light.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

The next morning Matt once again went straight to the station. Both Jennings and Trenton were out on a call, so the PI filled his coffee mug, talked to Luis Sanchez for a few minutes and then let himself into Hoyt's office and pulled up the records for Luciano Aratoli and Keshawn Robertson. He looked out into the squad room as he took a sip and saw John Oxford staring at him with a disgusted look on his face. Matt just sighed, shook his head and went back to the computer.

Aratoli had been referred to one time by a reporter as "a Godfather-wanna-be". Six weeks later the brakes on the reporter's car unexplainably went out and he was killed on Mulholland Drive.

The first charge that Aratoli was pinched for was ADW: assault with a deadly weapon. He was 16 and had attacked a 23 year old with a baseball bat. By the time he was released from the juvenile justice system, young Aratoli had been the undisputed king of the lockup. He had faced various charges during his adult life, most of them pertaining to guns, gambling, and prostitution.

Keshawn Robertson was another story. He had been born to a junkie mother and raised by his grandfather until he struck out on his own at the age of 12. Strangely enough, Robertson had been an outstanding student in school who evidently understood the benefits of an education. He was said to be the shrewdest businessman in LA. Specializing in drugs, he had quickly risen from the streets of the projects, through the bottom-tier bars of the city and now could be found in all the A-list clubs of Hollywood supplying a clientele made up of producers, directors, and stars. He was known for his silk suits and dapper appearance.

Sitting back in his friend's chair, the PI propped his feet up on the desk and took a sip of the coffee. He thought back over what they had on the Foley case. They had at least four possible suspects: Beardsly, Sherwood, Robertson, and Aratoli, and the badly decomposed body of a recently lucky and then unlucky track bum. Walking out into the squad room the PI was relieved to see that John Oxford was now gone as he went to Lee's desk and found the file on Foley. He turned and went back to Hoyt's office where he again propped his feet up and read through the folder's contents. When he reached the autopsy photos he stopped on the picture of the head wound. The more he looked at it the more he was convinced that the impression was made by a pair of tongs. Having experience himself shoeing horses, Matt knew there were a variety of tongs used by farriers as they carried out their jobs. The impression on Foley's skull was almost eight millimeters. Matt looked up as Lee opened the door to the office. "Mornin'."

"Feels like it should be afternoon already." The detective sank down onto the couch and closed his eyes for a minute. "Any new leads?" He opened them and looked at the PI.

"Kind of." Holding up the file, Matt turned the picture toward Jenkins. "I think I know what the murder weapon was – but given we're dealing with horses it's no big surprise. It looks like a pair of tongs. I'd like to get a look at the horse and know who the farrier is who works for Beardsly." He saw the confused look on the cop's face. "The guy who does the horseshoes."

"Uh – I knew that." Lee rolled his eyes as Matt cracked up.

"I guess security would have a list of the folks who work for each of the owners."

"I would think so – they have to be authorized to go into that area." Lee headed out the door. "I'll call Heard and see if he can send one over."

Matt stood and stretched, finished off the coffee and followed Jennings out to the squad room. He walked over to the window as the cop placed the call. "He's emailing it." Lee pulled up his account and looked. Leaning back he looked up at the ceiling. Slowly, a grin spread across his face causing Matt to chuckle. "What?"

"Boy, you've got it bad." Houston sat down in an empty chair. "How many times have you talked to her today?"

"Twice. It's your fault – you pushed me in that direction."

"You were already on the path."

There was a beep from the computer. "Here we go." The young detective pulled up the list and printed it out. "Divide and conquer? I'll do criminal background and you do…your stuff."

"Gimme." Houston took the list. "Be sure to let me know when y'all set a date."

"I'm not even thinking about…" Lee stopped and smiled. "Yeah I am."

"Uh huh. Later." The PI took the stairs down to the parking garage and went to his own office sitting high atop the Houston Industries Building. "Mornin', Chris. Looks like _somebody_ sent you some flowers."

"He does it every time he goes out of town." The secretary beamed.

Matt went into CJ's office, saw she was on the phone and kissed the top of her head before going out to sit down in front of BABY. He opened up the computer and started in on the list. Sal Beardsly was at the top and had already been researched so Houston moved on down to the next person: Victor Lee Beardsly. "I'm guessing dad or uncle." He typed in the name. "Aha – cousin." Victor was the trainer for Beardsly Stables. At 40 years old, the trainer was married to Anne Marie Shepherd and had been since they were both 18. The couple had three kids ranging in age from 13 to 20 years old. After several more minutes of searching, the PI couldn't find any other information on him.

Next on the list was Chumley Chalmers, age 22, one of two jockeys that Beardsly employed. The young man had ridden to several wins and places at the track. Other than that Matt found nothing.

Cathleen Konoghan, 21, was the other jockey. She had been employed by Beardsly for only three months. Up until Palisades Pride's recent win, the young woman had never won at the track. No other information was available on her either.

Next Matt looked up Joshua Beardsly, age 20. After a little backtracking, the PI found out that Joshua was the son of Victor. He worked as a groom and had for the last five years.

Skipping over the next two names – Aratoli and Robertson - Matt found the one person that he was most interested in at the moment: Nicky Gerrard, the farrier for Beardsly Stables. As he typed in the name, CJ came in and sat down with him, rubbing his back as he worked the keyboard. "Nicky Gerrard, 73, has been a farrier for over 50 years and has been with Beardsly for the last fifteen." Matt sighed as he leaned back and pulled out his phone. "Lee, have you run the folks on the list?"

"Just got done. There were a couple that were interesting. Joshua Beardsly who got popped for underage drinking when he was 12 and his second cousin Sal who got popped for contributing to the delinquency of a minor for giving the kid the case of beer."

"Uh huh. That's interesting but it doesn't make either one of 'em a murderer. I haven't had any luck here. But I want to talk to the farrier – Gerrard."

"Hang on." Jennings put him on hold. "Damn! Gotta go – two guys decided to have a shootout at Echo Park."

"Talk to you later." Matt hung up. "Guess I'm going to head to the track." He pulled CJ in for a kiss. "Love you."

"You, too. Stay out of trouble."

"Maybe." He flashed a grin as he stepped over the back of the couch. Stopping at the top of the stairs he looked back at her. "Would you run a check on Nicky Gerrard's financials for me?"

"Sure will."

"Thanks, Babe." He hit the elevator, collected his truck, and drove to the track. After showing his LAPD ID he went through the gate and went to Stable 4 where Beardsly's horses were housed. Unlike his visit the day before, Matt didn't see a guard anywhere around. He suspected that even though Lonnie Stark had broken the track's rules by accepting a gift, Darin Heard had made a mistake firing him.

As he walked into the stable, Matt took off his sunglasses and looked around. The four horses that belonged to Beardsly were in the first four stalls, each one with a nameplate. Two of the horses were there: Catch Me If You Can and Wind Song. The PI eased up to the door of Catch Me If You Can, sneaking a look inside. The horse had his back turned and was facing the back left corner. The PI made a clicking sound that got absolutely no reaction, nor did anything else he tried.

Looking around once again, Matt moved on to Wind Song. As soon as he got near the door, the horse stuck his head out and began checking him out. Talking quietly, he eased his right hand closer and held still as the horse sniffed at him. "How ya doin', bud?" The horse nuzzled his hand and Matt began rubbing along his jaw. After another minute he moved on down and looked into the empty stalls of Beardsly's other horses.

"Somethin' I can help you with?" The PI looked up as a man of about 70 came down the hallway toward him.

"Maybe so. Are you Nicky Gerrard?"

"I am."

"Matt Houston." He showed his ID. "I'm working on the investigation of the body that was found out here."

"Is it true that it was Foley?" Gerrard set down the bucket of tools that he had been carrying.

"It seems to be. Did you know him?"

"Well, kinda. Always felt sorry for him." The farrier looked around to make sure no one could hear. "I used to let him stay in here if we had an empty stall. He never caused any problems. Look, I've got to work on Winnie's shoes – can we talk at the same time?"

"Sure. I'll carry this for you." Matt picked up the bucket and followed along looking inside at the tongs.

"Were you waiting on me, Winnie? Come on." Gerrard snapped a lead on the horse and brought him out. "Come on; let's get your feet taken care of." He led the thoroughbred outside and clipped the lead to a post. "So what can I do to help you?" He set about inspecting the horse's hooves and legs.

"Did you ever hear anybody threaten him?"

"Sure – every time King Sherwood laid eyes on him."

"You mean the steward?"

"Yeah, he thinks he's a king."

"So he didn't want Foley hanging around, huh?"

"Nope." Gerrard grunted as he picked up the horse's right front foot and used the hoof pick to clean it.

Matt handed over the clinch cutter and pincers, receiving an appraising look from the older man. "Done this before, have you?"

"Yes sir."

Grunting as he began removing the nails, Gerrard shook his head. "It's getting to be a lost art. Seems like there aren't too many young folks today that want to learn." He gave another grunt as he removed the last nail. "Winnie, take five; the old man needs a break." Gerrard let the hoof go. "Getting too old for this. But you didn't come here to listen to an old grump."

"I haven't heard one yet. So do you know if Foley had a problem with anyone else?"

"Naw. He was a good guy." Gerrard moved back over and took up Wind Song's hoof and began trimming it.

Matt watched in silence for a minute. "So who's going to replace you when you retire?"

"That depends on who you ask." He put the horse's hoof down and squatted down in front to check out the work. Grunting as he stood back up, the old farrier smiled up at the PI. "We've got a young groom here who's been learning from me that figures he's got the job when I'm gone."

"But you don't figure it that way."

"Nope. He's not experienced enough – not to handle these horses. Doesn't have the patience either. I can't seem to make him understand."

"Each shoe is a custom made piece of art."

"Do you want the job?"

"No sir - got too many irons in the fire as it is."

"The kid seems to think it's as easy as buying a pair of sneakers at Waldo Mart." He finished nailing the shoe on and put the finishing touches on the hoof and moved on to the next. "Naw, I think somebody else will get the job." He held up one of the new shoes. "There's a lot of money riding on these."

"Yes sir." Matt set the bucket down where Gerrard could reach the tools when he needed them. "Thanks for your help."

"Don't know what kinda help I gave you, but you're welcome."

The PI walked on through the stable and out the other end. Pulling the sunglasses from his shirt, Houston turned and headed for the track where several of the horses had been going through their morning workout. One of the jockeys – a young woman – appeared to be having a hard time controlling the horse she was on even with the help of its lead pony and the trainer. The long-legged thoroughbred broke away with the jockey hanging on unable to stop him as the rider on the companion pony was jerked to the ground by the leather strap intended to restrain the race horse. Matt was less than five yards away. Hopping onto the pony's back, he went after the thoroughbred and grabbed the reins, wrapping them around the horn of the pony's saddle. Although still somewhat agitated the stallion finally began to calm down.

"Okay bud, relax now. Come on." The PI coaxed the horse and headed back in the direction that he had come from. He looked at the jockey. "You okay?" She gave him a nod. "Let's just ease on back this way, alright?" He kept a quiet and gentle tone and returned the horse to the trainer.

"Pride, what in the hell's gotten into you, boy? Come on now." He gently stroked the horse's jaw. "Thanks for the help. Don't believe we've met. Vic Beardsly."

"Matt Houston." The two shook. "Is he alright?" He nodded in the direction of the young man who had been snatched off the back of the pony.

"Think he'll be okay – except for his pride." The young man had picked himself up off of the ground and was angrily brushing off his clothes, cursing the horse under his breath. "Cut it out, Joshua. That's part of dealing with these horses." He handed Palisades Pride over to another man and watched as he went to the stable area. "Got to get back to work. Thanks again." Beardsly followed along behind Palisades Pride as he entered the stable.

Joshua Beardsly yanked the reins of the companion horse from the PI and stalked off toward the stable without so much as a thank you. Matt made a mental note of the young man's behavior and headed toward the lobby of the grandstand. He looked at which horses would be running that day. Palisades Pride and Catch Me If You Can were scheduled to run in the first race of the day.

Matt continued to walk around and pulled his phone out of his pocket and called CJ. "Hi. Can I get you to check on something for me?"

"Sure. Whatcha need?" The lawyer-turned-PI walked back into her office sipping the coffee she had just poured.

"Look up the race that Foley was a big winner on and tell me if any other horses from Beardsly Stables were in it."

"Okay…" She worked the keys on her computer. "There was one other…"

"And it was Catch Me If You Can."

"Why ask me if you already knew?"

"It was a guess."

"And I'm going to guess that you have a suspicion about the win?"

"Yep. Hang on." He watched as another horse ridden by a jockey wearing a Beardsly Stables jacket headed back toward the stables. "And that one must be Zalma Flash." He wandered away from the other people who were now beginning to fill the area. "I think I know what got Foley killed."

"What's that?"

"Doping. I'm gonna call Lee. Talk to you later, Babe. And yes I will. Love you." He knew she was about to tell him to be careful.

"Love you." CJ put the phone down, worried. There was a lot of money to be made and lost in horse racing and murder had been committed for far less.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

"How many do you think are in on it?" Lee pulled into a parking lot to continue his phone conversation with Houston.

"I'm not sure. The way the government has it set up there are three stewards at the track plus associate stewards. And then you've got racing board investigators. There has to be several folks involved at different levels in order to get it by. There are veterinarians…hell - they've even got horseshoe inspectors."

"I didn't know it was so complicated. Damn. So this could be pretty widespread."

"It could. I think it's going to take someone reporting to the chairman. We don't know who we can trust here." The PI was sitting in his truck parked outside the security office. "I don't even know if we can trust security here."

"Oh boy. Not what I wanted to hear. Okay, um…damn. I guess we better have a talk with the captain and let him run it up to the chief."

"Tell you what." Matt didn't have much love for the chief but thought he would take a chance. "The chief is the one who told you to call me in. I'm going to see if I can get in to talk to him about it. The fewer people who know about this the better."

"Okay…"

"You come with me, though. I'm going to just show up on his doorstep. I don't want to have to tell too many folks why we need to talk."

"Oh boy, okay. Meet you in the parking lot."

"See ya." Matt disconnected the call and headed for the New Parker Center at 100 West First Street. As he traveled through the traffic he called CJ again.

"How's it going?"

"I'm on my way to meet Lee and talk to the chief. Have you finished the financials I asked you to run?"

"Just a minute ago. Gerrard's looks on the up and up."

"Okay. I need you to expand your list."

"Who are we including?"

"All three of the track stewards, the associate stewards, the vets, and the racing board investigators assigned to the track."

"Okay…this is going to take a while."

"I know. My plan is to come help you when I get done with the chief."

"Alright. Love you."

"Love you, too, Babe." He hung up and blew out a large breath.

Lee was waiting for Houston just as promised. "It looks like he's here. His detail is parked in their usual spots."

"Alright. Let's go." The two entered the building and were cleared to go up to the chief's office. "I hope this goes better than my last visit." Matt cut his eyes over to the young detective.

"Oh, crap. Man, don't even try to tell me, please. I don't want to know." Jenkins rubbed his temples. "I'm really starting to understand why the LT is so moody." He punched Matt in the ribs as the PI snickered.

Walking into the lobby of Chief Whittaker's office the two were surprised to find it empty. Looking up from her computer monitor, the secretary gave the two men a smile. "Can I help you?"

"Yes ma'am. Det. Jennings and Matt Houston. We'd like to speak with the chief."

"He's with someone right now."

"Ma'am, if you could let him know that it involves the case that he asked for my help with yesterday I would sure appreciate it. He told me time was of the essence." Matt gave her a serious look.

"Oh, okay. Excuse me for a moment." She jotted a message on a piece of paper and knocked on the door before entering, returning a moment later.

"Gentlemen, he'll see you now."

The two detectives exchanged a look and walked through the door that she held open for them.

"Gentlemen – come in, come in. I'm sure you know Ms. Placer."

It was then that Matt saw the blonde reporter that he had worked so hard to avoid lately. Sitting on a couch in a very revealing red dress, she wore a wicked smile. Matt nodded to her.

"What can I do for you boys?" Whittaker's smile appeared to be painted on, much the same as the dress that Placer was wearing.

"Uh, well, uh…" Lee stammered.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Chief. We need to speak with you…privately." Matt directed his attention to the man behind the desk.

"Well Miss Placer and I were just discussing a story that she has in mind featuring our detectives and their ability to work with those of you in the private sector, Mr. Houston. You can continue."

"No sir."

"I'm sorry – what?" Whittaker's smile faltered.

"No sir. My investigations are confidential."

"Speaking as the person who hired you, you have my permission to speak freely."

"No sir." The PI turned and headed for the door leaving Jennings to look between the two.

"That's okay – I'm sure Det. Jennings is _more_ than capable of filling us in." Tamara Placer stood and walked toward the young man.

"I'm sorry, uh, no." He saw the look from the chief. "Sir, Houston has information that I haven't heard yet. I don't have all the details."

"Come now, Detective." Placer put her hand on his arm. "Don't be so shy."

"I'm not…" Lee turned to his boss. "Sir, Houston was working on it this morning when I was called out on a shooting."

"Mr. Houston." Whittaker stood and his voice got louder as Matt opened the door. The PI stopped and turned on his heel to face the chief. "I demand that you tell me the information – now."

"No sir. Not in present company." His unblinking stare didn't leave the chief and the tone of his voice dropped dramatically, causing Lee to look in his direction.

"That was not a request – it was an order."

"I don't take orders from you – or anyone else for that matter." Houston turned and walked out of the office closing the door with a very quiet _*click*_. He went straight to the elevator, the secretary's startled gaze following him.

Whittaker charged out of the office after him. "You wait right there." He got within two feet of Matt when the elevator doors opened and the private eye stepped on board followed by the chief. "Who in the hell do you think you are?" Lee slid into the car just before the reporter caught up with them and Matt hit the button to close the doors. "What exactly is your problem, PI? Do you have any idea how much good it could do the department to have her in our corner?"

"Your corner – not mine. And I've got news for you: she'll only be in your corner as long as it serves her purpose." Reaching out, Matt hit the stop button. "Now that we can talk privately…" He went on to fill Whittaker in on the case.

"Oh, my Lord." The man stood speechless for a moment. "I…" Motioning with his hands, the chief looked at Matt. "I'm sorry. You were right not to speak in front of anyone else."

The PI reached over and started the elevator again. "Now: I'm going to tell you something else. My work assisting this department has nothing to do whatsoever with you or your political aspirations. Don't you _ever_ try to order me around again. This is your last warning." The doors opened and the PI - seemingly calm - stepped out of the car and headed to his truck.

Whittaker looked at Jennings. "Go with him. I want an update as soon as possible."

"Yes sir." Lee left the elevator, found his car in the lot, and left for Houston's office.

Once he was parked in the Houston Industries garage, Matt hit the button for the elevator and rode up to the penthouse. Chris knew the moment she saw how pale he was and the set of his jaw – that something bad had happened. Without speaking, Matt went up into the office, hung a right, and went down the steps to the gym.

CJ had heard him pass through and left her desk to check on him. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she saw that he had removed the oxford cloth shirt that he had put on that morning and was fastening the Velcro on the wrists of a pair of speed bag gloves. He walked over and began on the piece of equipment, something that CJ hadn't seen him do in quite a while. Crossing the room, she went quietly to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. He continued to pound the bag.

"What happened?" The bag continued to take a beating until she gripped his shoulders. "Talk to me, hon." He stopped and turned toward her taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out. Guiding him over to the weight bench she sat him down and removed the gloves as he told her. CJ didn't utter a word until he was done. He looked up into her eyes.

"Okay. I'd say you got your point across." She walked into the back part of the gym and pulled a t-shirt out of a drawer and brought to him. "And…" Tilting his chin up so that she could look directly into his eyes again, she continued. "…you did it without losing your cool. I can remember a time not too long ago that you would have hit Whittaker instead of the speed bag." She kissed him. "I'm proud of you." Walking toward the shower area, she came back in a minute bringing him two Tylenol. "Now let's go eat the pizza that I ordered and get back to work." Taking her husband by the hand she led him back upstairs and stopped by the poker table and gave him a kiss that had Chris and the now-present Lee Jennings exchanging a look and a blush. CJ whispered in his ear. "I really am proud of you, Cowboy."

As she walked behind the bar, CJ called out to Chris and Lee. "Do y'all want a Fizzy Pop with your pizza?"

"Uh, sure." Chris looked at Lee and they shrugged at each other before going up the steps to join the couple.

"Sounds good." The cop took off his jacket and put it on the back of the chair as they sat down to lunch.

After they polished off the pizza, Matt and Lee sat down on the couch with part of the list that CJ had made, consisting of track officials.

"Lee…" Matt consulted the list and began entering a name. "…I'm sorry about putting you in a bad spot earlier."

"Nah…actually, I laughed my ass off on the way over here."

"Glad I could give you some comic relief." Matt snickered and went back to work.

By 8:00 that night, they had finished their checks on every person on the list. It was then that they gathered in CJ's office to go over what they had found.

"I already ran a check on Sherwood but I decided to check and see about his current wife and found that she has a rather large off-shore account but no income."

"Red flag." Matt jotted down the name on a sheet of paper.

"Also, I found an interesting sum of money in the account of one of the associate stewards – Jacob Rivera. He hasn't inherited anything and doesn't make a large enough paycheck to justify the amount in there. Of course he could just be thrifty."

"We'll see – anyone else?"

"Dr. Leon Vargas, DVM. The good doctor also has an off-shore account with a nice balance. And here's another interesting twist; the lab that processes the blood draws from the horses is run by Vargas' brother-in-law, James Able, who has an account with the same off-shore bank. That's all I've found."

"Lee and I found that three of the four racing board investigators seem clean. But the fourth is dirty as hell – and he's the lead investigator. His name is Cyril Patterson."

"Think they'll shut the track down?" Lee looked between the two PI's.

"I would say that they would have to – at least temporarily." CJ looked at Matt who had gotten up and walked to the doorway where he was stretching and rubbing his neck. She went to him and began rubbing the knotted muscles in his neck before suddenly snapping his neck to the right causing a loud _*CRACK*_ to echo through the office, startling Lee.

Matt nodded. "Thanks." He turned and walked back through his wife's office to the pool table where he picked up a cue and made a breaking shot. "Finding out about the doping is all well and good; but it hasn't answered the question of who killed Colin Foley." Starting with the one ball he began picking them off in sequence.

"No, but I think it's probably a motive." Lee watched as the private eye ran the table. "I'm calling it a day."

"So who is going to report in to the chief?" CJ looked as Matt put the cue back on the wall rack.

"I've got a funeral to attend in the morning." Houston looked at Lee. "You're it."


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

Friday morning at 8:00 found Matt and CJ pulling up in front of Evita Santiago's home. After helping CJ out of the Navigator, the pair went up the sidewalk as the front door was opened. "Mrs. Santiago, this is my wife CJ."

"I'm sorry that we're meeting under such sad circumstances." CJ shook her hand.

"I am, too. Would you like to come in?" The older lady led them into the living room. "Please – have a seat." She motioned to the sofa. "I really appreciate everything that you've done for me, Mr. Houston – and for Mario."

"I'm just sorry that I haven't been able to find out what happened to him. But I'm not giving up." They talked on for a few minutes before heading out to the church where Mario's funeral was to be conducted. Matt helped the ladies inside and was going around the front of the Navigator when his phone rang. After a short conversation, CJ saw him turn it off before placing it in the breast pocket of his suit. "Sorry about that." He started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

All through the service, Matt and CJ stayed with Mrs. Santiago and after the graveside service they returned her to her house. After saying their goodbyes – in which both told her to call if she needed anything – Matt opened the door for CJ and slid behind the wheel. He stayed quiet all the way to the office. As they rode up in the elevator CJ took his hand. "Matt, I've looked through the file on Mario Santiago. There just isn't anywhere to go on it." He didn't answer. "It isn't your fault, hon."

"That doesn't make it any easier to take."

They stepped off of the elevator and Chris gave them a smile. "I had almost forgotten how nice you look in a suit, Boss. Oh, Lee called a little while ago."

"Thanks, Chris." He pulled his phone out of his jacket and headed downstairs to change.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No, he's upset about the Santiago case."

As he changed into jeans, a white and blue striped oxford cloth shirt, and a pair of duty boots, the PI returned Lee's call and noticed that he had missed one from Michael as well. "Hey Lee – anything new this morning?"

"Not really. I took a report to the chief and he's talking to the DA. For right now it looks like we're out of the picture."

"Maybe on the doping but not the Foley murder."

Something in the PI's tone caught the cop's attention. "You okay?"

"No, I'm pissed about Foley and Santiago." Matt went back upstairs. "I've got a feeling that Foley's murderer isn't a high man on the totem pole. As a matter of fact, I've got a hunch who it is – but no proof – yet."

"Hang on." Lee disappeared for a minute. "Gotta go – another shooting. Talk to you later."

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, the disgusted PI went out and sat down at the table on the patio and called Michael Hoyt who was recuperating from a couple of gunshot wounds. "Howdy, pard. How ya doin'?"

"About ready to go crazy – and Anne isn't far behind."

Matt couldn't help but laugh. "So you're going crazy and taking her with you, huh? That's true love I guess."

"Let's change the subject. How are things going for you?"

"Nnnn."

"That bad, huh? What happened?" The veteran cop listened as his friend related not only what was going on at Santa Maria but his brick wall with Mario Santiago. "From what you're telling me about Foley, it sounds like the kid did it."

"That's what I'm thinking. I just haven't worked out a way to…" The PI stopped.

Looking at his phone, the cop spoke again. "Hello? Houston? You still there?"

"Yeah. And I think I just figured out how to deal with Joshua Beardsly – but I'm going to need some professional help."

"You already needed professional help." Hoyt chuckled.

"Yeah, but not the kind you think. I need a farrier."

"What the hell is a farrier?"

"Goggle it, Hoyt. You've got the time. 'Bye." Matt hung up and went into CJ's office. "Gonna go work on a theory. I'll call you later. Love you." He leaned across the desk and kissed her.

"Just be careful, sweetie. Love you, too."

Matt took the elevator down to the lobby and went to the security desk. "How's it goin', Walter?"

"Hey Houston – real good."

"Do you have Lonnie Stark working today?"

"Sure do. He's around back keeping an eye on the deliveries. Want me to call him up here?"

"No, I just need to ask him a couple of questions. Thanks." He headed down the hallway toward the loading dock. In a couple of minutes he spotted Stark comparing a delivery ticket to a load of goods. When he finished the PI spoke up. "So how do you like it so far?"

Stark turned, smiling. "Great. It's a lot easier than telling nosy folks to leave the horses alone." Both men laughed.

"I've got a couple of questions for you if you don't mind."

"Sure."

After several minutes of picking the guard's brain, Matt got into his truck and called Nicky Gerrard who agreed to meet with him at the track. Once again, the PI didn't see a guard anywhere around Stable 4. He was petting on Wind Song when the farrier arrived. "Mr. Gerrard, I sure do appreciate you taking the time to talk to me."

"Not a problem. What can I do for you?"

Matt continued to scratch on the horse's jaw. "Well sir, I need some help…and I need it to stay just between us."

"I ain't a blabbermouth."

"I'm sure you're not; that's why I came to you. Here's what I'm thinking." After making sure that no one could hear them, Matt explained what he had come up with.

Nodding, Gerrard gave the PI a sad look. "Much as I hate to think it, what you've told me makes sense. Okay, I'm in." He pulled out his phone and called Joshua Beardsly. "Josh, we've got to do some work on Pride's shoes and I think you need to be the one to do it. I'm about to give Sal my two weeks' notice and want to be sure you can deal with Pride's hoof issues before I'm gone…and don't forget your tools." He listened as the young man replied. "Okay, see you in a while." After hanging up, the older man looked at Matt. "He'll be here in half an hour."

"Guess we better get set up." The PI went to his truck and brought back three of what he referred to as critters and set them up where the work would be done, making a call to Lee in the meantime to let him know. "Alright Mr. Gerrard. We're set."

The PI checked the feed on his laptop and moved his truck to the security office parking lot. He saw Josh as he entered the track and headed for Stable 4. Once the younger man was with Gerrard where the PI could see him on camera, Matt moved his truck again to the far end of Stable 5 where it would be out of sight. He then entered Stable 4 and worked his way up to the end so that he could be closer.

Joshua Beardsly had brought Palisades Pride out to the same spot where Gerrard had worked on Wind Song the day before. "You know, Dad's kinda upset that you're giving your notice."

"He is?"

"Yeah. He stopped me as I was getting in the truck - said you didn't mention it to him."

"I just decided this morning."

"It's not polite to spring news like that on folks." Both men jumped as Victor Beardsly appeared.

"No matter when you heard it would be a surprise, Vic." Ricky stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I figured a pop-quiz was in order for the kid here. Josh, if you don't pass I'm going to tell Sal he needs to be looking for another farrier."

"You're kidding."

"Nope, it's the truth. We're about to find out if you've been paying attention." He pointed to the young man's dad. "And don't you give him any help. He's a grown man – let's see if he can stand on his own two feet." He nodded at Josh. "Get Pride taken care of."

Josh swallowed nervously and reached for his tool box and began working on the horse. Pride's hooves required extra work and his shoes had to be adjusted using heat, unlike all of the other horses from Beardsly Stables. Ricky Gerrard had picked the hardest test possible.

The old farrier watched as Josh began getting his tools ready for the heat adjustment. He frantically began digging through his toolbox.

"What's the matter, Josh?" Vic watched as a panicked look spread across his son's face.

"Uh, my tongs…they've gotta be here someplace."

"Let me go see if I've got some in the truck." Vic Beardsly turned and started back the way he had come.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Beardsly." Carl Trenton and two uniformed officers intercepted him. "We got a search warrant for your truck as well as Josh's. You left the murder weapon under the seat. Put your hands on the wall, please."

"Dad? What the hell is going on?"

"They're lying, Josh. I didn't do anything."

"Nothing that a father wouldn't do to help his son out; isn't that right, Vic?" Matt stepped out of the stable. "Unless you would rather say that those prints on the tongs are Josh's. What's it going to be?" The older Beardsly hung his head.

"Dad, who did you…Foley? You killed Foley?!"

"I had to, son. He knew too much and was trying to blackmail us."

"Blackmail? For what?"

"I did it to protect you. I'm not saying anything else."

"And Sal and a lot of other folks." Matt watched as the cops led Vic Beardsly away and read him his rights.

That night as the Houston family sat at the dinner table everyone was chatting and enjoying the meal – everyone except Matt. "…so that's when the boy here said, "But Sheriff – I was only going one way!" Roy Houston was near tears from laughing so hard as was Sheila. The older man settled down as he noticed that his nephew wasn't laughing and was staring at his plate with a faraway look in his eyes.

CJ reached over and squeezed her husband's hand. "Aren't you going to defend yourself, hon?"

"Huh?" The PI looked up at her.

"What's weighing so heavy on you, Matt?" Roy put down his fork.

"Nothing." Houston continued to pick at the food on his plate.

"And that nothing would be the Santiago case – wouldn't it?" Roy and CJ had talked earlier about the lack of leads. Matt nodded. "Son, you know as well as I do that sometimes – no matter how hard you try – you just can't solve one."

Matt put down his fork and stood up. "It was good, Babe." He gave his wife a kiss on the cheek and excused himself from the table. The other three adults and Catey Rose watched as he walked out of the kitchen door and turned toward the barn.

Later on after the dishes had been cleared CJ, Roy, and Sheila took Catey outside and sat at the table on the patio. Matt was once again leaning on the fence and smoking a cigar. "Maybe I should…" CJ started to get out of her chair.

"No." Roy shook his head. "He needs some time, CJ. He'll work it out for himself."


End file.
